


Changes

by Titch360



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 16:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7625500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titch360/pseuds/Titch360
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is changing for the Bat-family after Bruce returns from the dead and the Robins get possessive. T for themes and mild swearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changes

Changes

 

Dick Grayson skipped up the front steps of Stately Wayne Manor, enjoying the best mood he had been in for months.  He was in the process of losing his job at Wayne Enterprises, and he couldn’t be happier about it.  For almost all of the past year, Dick had served as CEO of Wayne Enterprises while Bruce was believed dead.  He had put on a plastic smile and played along with the story that Bruce was taking an extended sabbatical for some well-deserved rest, while inside, his heart was being torn to shreds at the thought of losing the second father of his lifetime.  He had carried on, following the best traditions that Bruce had laid out for him, hoping to survive for just one more day without collapsing in grief. 

That was all behind him now, as Bruce had done the impossible and returned to him.  Dick figured he hadn’t stopped smiling for the past three weeks.  Dick and Alfred had teamed up to force Bruce to not jump straight back into his old life, and had covered for him for a few more weeks while Bruce re-acclimated himself to his life.  There had been fits and starts, and difficult times aplenty, but Bruce was now ready to return to his day job, and Dick was never so glad to lose a job as he was now.

Entering the massive Wayne ancestral home, Dick was met by silence and tension.  Before he could even get the door closed, he wondered if he should come back later.  While he was thinking about it, Alfred approached from the kitchen.

“Master Dick, thank goodness,” the butler said in a hushed tone.

Dick approached slowly, his steps carrying a level of stealth normally used when approaching a target as Batman.  He replied in a matching hushed tone, “Alfred, what’s going on here?  Why does it feel like someone died in this house?”

“Oh, Master Dick.  I’m afraid certain events have come to a head in the past few hours.  Perhaps you are the only one with the skills to return the household to status quo.”

Dick was confused, “What sort of events?  Where is everyone?  Bruce is finally back, we should be celebrating, not doing…whatever we’re doing.”

Alfred placed a hand on Dick’s shoulder and looked up into those soulful, blue eyes.  “Master Bruce is in his study.  He will tell you everything.  Be prepared, young sir, you will not like everything he has to say.”

“Alfred, you’re scaring me.”

Alfred closed his eyes and nodded, “Yes, young master, I am, but I would rather you be prepared.”

Dick nodded and left the saddened butler, heading directly for Bruce’s study.  The imposing oak doors were shut, and after Alfred’s warning, they seemed to take on a sinister nature in the dusky hallway.  Normally, Dick would have no problem with walking right in to the room.  Today, instead, he knocked twice on the solid portal.

“Go away.”

Dick gasped at the watery, distraught tone that barely worked its way past the closed door.  _That can’t be Bruce.  It sounds like he’s crying.  What happened here?_

Dick ignored the two words and cracked the door open just enough to stick his head through.  Bruce sat at the massive desk that dominated the room, causing Dick’s breath to hitch in his chest.  Dick had refused to use the room while Bruce was gone; it reminded him of his surrogate father too much.  Now, seeing the man sitting behind the desk made the last year seem like it never happened.

However, there were enough changes to throw off the cherished memory.  Only a single desk lamp was lit, instead of the overhead light fixture, bathing the majority of the room in shadow.  The stacks of paperwork that had taken their share of space on the surface for the entirety of Dick’s life in the Manor were missing.  Not only had Dick never used the study, but in an attempt to give as much attention to raising his youngest brother as possible, Dick had resolutely refused to bring paperwork home from the office.  It led to many hectic days and late nights to make sure Bruce’s company didn’t fold, but he felt that the sacrifice was worth it if Damian could have a consistent figure in his life.

The biggest change was the man sitting behind the desk.  Normally robust and earnest, Bruce Wayne sat hunched over the desk, elbows leaning on the hardwood surface with his face cradled in his palms. 

The dark-haired head rose slowly from his hands, and Dick had to stop a look of horror from settling on his features.  Bruce looked haggard, like he hadn’t slept in the entire year he was gone.  His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and visible tracks were left on his cheeks by recent tears.

Not focusing on the intruder on his solitude, Bruce ground out in a watery voice, “I said, go awa…oh, it’s you, Dick.”

Dick slipped into the room, closing the door behind him silently as Bruce lowered his head again, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.  Dick approached slowly, unsure on the best course of action.  Part of him was compelled to rush to the man and cradle his father in his arms.  Another part felt a more cautious route was the right one, while an even smaller part wanted to run from the room and bury his head under the several pillows adorning his bed while refusing to believe that this could possibly be Bruce.

The cautious approach won out, and Dick took a chair across the desk from his father.  “Bruce, please feel free to stop scaring me at any time.  You know I don’t like it when you cry.  What happened?  Alfred wouldn’t tell me anything.  Are you okay?  Is everything alright?”

Bruce was silent for several minutes before responding.  He pushed a folded piece of paper across the desk before raising his head again, not quite meeting Dick’s eyes.  “You did such a good job while I was dead.  I’m sorry, no one should have to lose two fathers in a life.”

Ignoring the paper, he whispered, “Please, don’t say that.  You’re _not_ dead, and you never were.  We’re all just so glad to have you back.”

Bruce hitched a sob out of his throat, “Do you speak for everyone?”

Dick was shocked, “Of course.  We all missed you.”

“Maybe for a while, but I don’t think you speak for everyone in this house when you say that.”

Dick leaned forward, “Bruce, what happened?  Yesterday, everything was fine.  Now, you’re in here crying, and Alfred is walking around like someone di…Bruce, tell me someone didn’t _die.”_

“Someone didn’t die, but maybe someone should have stayed dead.”

“ _NO._   This family needs you, Bruce.  We were just barely hanging on without you.”

Bruce pulled out a laptop and a stack of papers and set them on the desk.  Despite the seriousness of the conversation they were having, Dick’s heart leapt just a bit to see a reminder of the old Bruce returned to the room.  “I’ve been reading about what happened while I was gone.  My house is still standing, my company is enjoying a banner year, and all four of my sons have spent more time together recently than any time before my trip through time.  You did a lot to make me proud, Dick, but nothing made me prouder than that.” Bruce pointed to the folded sheet of paper he had pushed towards his eldest son.

Sighing, Dick picked up the sheet and unfolded it.  An involuntary smile worked its way across his face as he read the official court order declaring Dick Grayson the temporary legal guardian of one Damian Wayne.

“You shouldered my burdens, you filled my cowl, and you volunteered to raise my son.  You never should have been put in a position to have to do any of those things, yet you did them, and did them well.  You should at least have let Alfred serve as guardian, give yourself a chance to have your own life.”

The smile started fading, “It never would have worked out, that way.  After we lost you, I kinda lost myself for a while.  Alfred was kind enough to wait until I was back on my feet before giving me the ‘we must soldier on’ lecture, but by that time, it was too late.  He told me I needed to pull myself together for the sake of Damian, because he would be needing someone to look up to now.  I decided to let him get the full, impassioned speech out before I showed him this, which the judge had signed that same morning.”

Despite his pitiful appearance, Bruce gave a wry smile.  “What did he have to say about that?”

“You know, he was actually speechless, possibly for the first time in his life.”

Bruce sounded nervous, “How did Damian take it?”

Dick sighed before saying, “He doesn’t know.  Applying for guardianship felt, for me, like putting another nail in your coffin.  I wanted to believe that you weren’t gone, I wanted to believe the story we were feeding the media.  If I applied for anything more than temporary guardianship, it would have felt like giving up on you.  I didn’t tell him, because I didn’t want to try to take your place.  I remember how hard you tried not to take the place of my father, and how much that respect for him meant to me.  I couldn’t do that to him; I couldn’t take your place.”

“…But you did, in so many ways.  He looks up to you in a way he may never look up to me, not anymore, at least…”

Dick put the court order back on the pile of papers and leaned his elbows on the desk.  “Are you going to tell me what happened now?”

Bruce nodded sadly, “I went to the Crystal Bay Charity Ball last night.  You remember me talking about it, right?”  Dick nodded, “This was my grand re-entry into Gotham society nightlife again.  I was the toast of the Ball.  People simpering over the return of the prodigal son.” Bruce took on a falsetto accent, “Oh, Brucie!  We’re _so_ glad to see you again.  Where _have_ you been?  You must tell us all about your trip.  Oh, by the way, you remember our daughter, right?  She would just love to see you again.  Oh, and our granddaughter would be just perfect for that son of yours.” Bruce grimaced and rolled his eyes as Dick shook his head, laughing silently.  “Anyway, I’m stuck reintegrating myself to society life while gratefully reintroducing my liver to the joys of whiskey.  Meanwhile, I sent Tim and Damian to do a short patrol, with the caveat that they be home around the same time as I would be getting in from the Ball.  I wanted to test how well they could work together, to see just how much you had changed them.”

Bruce’s story came to a shuddering halt as he thought over what was really troubling him.  Dick waited for several minutes for Bruce to continue.  When he didn’t, Dick prompted him, “Okay, then what happened?”

Bruce closed his eyes, a stray tear working its way slowly down his cheek, “Everything went to hell.  I still don’t know exactly what happened on patrol to get them so riled up, but the long and short of it is they were chasing a murder suspect when they suddenly couldn’t agree on anything.  They couldn’t agree on a plan of action, they couldn’t agree on a possible location for the suspect, they couldn’t even agree on who should be in charge of the search.  Needless to say, this wasn’t good for their patrol.  The murderer got away, and we have no clues about where to look next.”

Dick was confused, “Okay, but one escaped murderer is not worth the pall that has settled over this house today.  Either we’ll get him later, or the police will.  What aren’t you telling me?”

Bruce wiped at his face before continuing.  “When I got home from the Ball, Alfred said the boys hadn’t returned yet, but he expected them shortly.  I went upstairs to shower and change before going down to the cave to wait.  Apparently, while I was showering, they came home.  According to Alfred, they were already at odds with each other before they got out of the car.  He said he heard shouting, yelling, and more than enough swearing to make him believe that a Costco run was necessary to pick up more soap to wash their mouths out.  They were in a standoff by the time Alfred saw them.  He said that Tim threw the first punch, but after that, he feared for his own safety in trying to break it up.  I got there a minute later, but it still took almost five minutes for me to break them apart.  I’ve seen some knock-down, drag outs in my day, but this was unlike anything that I’ve seen before.  It was…scary.  They were ferocious.  I was scared that they were actually going to kill each other.  Even just breaking them apart didn’t end it.  Damian actually tried to get through me to get at Tim; almost succeeded, too.  Tim came just as hard, trying to get back to Damian.  I’ve…I’ve got more than enough bruises from just trying to keep them apart.  I almost had to sedate Damian to get him to settle down.  I finally had to lock him in the training room so I could find out what was going on.  He destroyed the training room, by the way.  It is completely unusable now.”

Dick’s mouth was hanging open.  “What happened?”

“I tried to talk to Tim, figuring he would be the more level-headed one.  He yelled at me!  He said I should have let him rid us of Damian once and for all.  He said my son doesn’t know the first thing about teamwork or how to follow orders.  He also said that Damian has been targeting him since the day they met, and what he gave Damian was long overdue.  I know things haven’t been good between them, but I had no idea it was this bad.”  Bruce dropped his gaze back to the tabletop before continuing, his voice barely more than a whisper.  “Tim said he was done.  He’s going to stay with the Titans for a while, and if he chooses to ever return to Gotham, he will look for his own place, but, in his words, he didn’t care to ever set foot in the Manor again, so long as Damian is here.  I tried to convince him to stay, but…he packed and left just before dawn.”

Dick was shocked.  The silence of the room was only interrupted by the sound of Bruce’s tears dripping on the oak desk.  Dick sat back and thought to himself.  _The first Robin to apply for the position of Robin is also the first to quit.  I wish I’d spoken to Tim more, seen if there was anything still going on between him and Damian._   He spoke up, amazement in his voice, “I knew they were having problems, but I thought they had solved most of them, or were at least working on them.  Wait…so, is Damian still locked up in the training room?”

Head still facing down, Bruce shook his head, “No, he’s in his room, where he’ll be for a very long time.  He was able to calm down a bit by destroying the training room, but he was still plenty mad when I got to him.  He said everything was all Tim’s fault, that Tim couldn’t follow a simple order, and that the murderer wouldn’t have gotten away if they had followed his plan.  I wanted to be fair to him, Dick, I really did, but I was still upset after talking to Tim.”

“What did you do,” Dick asked in a knowing voice.

“I…I yelled right back at him, matching word for word…insult for insult.  I told him he should be listening to his brother on patrol, because he has more experience.  I told him that it was his fault that Tim was leaving, and I…might have…grounded him.”  Bruce hung his head.

“…For how long?”

“Um…I _might_ have left it open ended.”

Dick’s eyes widened, “Bruce, what were you thinking?  You know that the problems between Damian and Tim come from Damian thinking you favor Tim over him.  You know how he grew up, how possessive he is.  You know everything he gave up in order to come live with you in the first place.”

Bruce’s head shot up, with a guilty expression, “I know!  I know I did the absolute worst thing I could with him.  I know I reverted to acting like…me…when I should have acted like you.  What I don’t know is how to fix this.  What do I do now?  God, I don’t even know my own son.”

Dick laid his hand on Bruce’s head as Bruce laid it on the table.  “What you did was act like a father, to a boy who doesn’t know what that is.  At least it didn’t get any worse.”

Bruce’s muffled voice rose from the desk top, “It got worse.  After I grounded him, I…I took his mask.  I pulled it right off his face and told him he couldn’t have it back until I felt he earned it.  He tried to ask me how to do that, but I…I refused to answer him.  I screwed up so bad last night, Dick.  I guess I really do deserve what he said next.”

“Oh my god, Bruce.  How could you do that?”

“…I was angry.  I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing.”

Dick’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, “How could you think that a child, who for all intents and purposes has never had a father, would automatically accept one?  How could you think that you could just drop into, and out of, and back into, his life, and expect there to be cohesion without an adjustment period?  Damian is desperate for attention.  He is desperate for _your_ attention.  He is desperate to please.  I bet I can guarantee that he saw last night’s patrol as an audition, an interview for who gets to be your Robin when you take the cowl back.  I wouldn’t be surprised if Tim saw it the same way.  Taking his mask just showed him that you made your choice.  Taking his mask like that must have been a worse rejection for him than if you had kicked him out of the house, like a sack of old clothes for the Goodwill.  What did he say that you guess you deserve?”

Tears rolled down Bruce’s cheeks again as he met Dick’s gaze for the first time since the younger man had entered the room.  “He said, ‘I can’t believe I missed you.  I wasted all that time grieving for you, for nothing.’ He ran upstairs after that.  I…I’ve been here…ever since…replaying what an idiot I am in my head.”

They were silent for a long time, thinking their own thoughts.  Bruce broke the silence some fifteen minutes later.  “How did you do it, Dick?”

“Do what?”

“How did you pick up after I was gone?  How did you keep this family together and functioning?  I’ve read everything you gave me about what happened here while I was gone.  You were successful.  You got through to Damian, while all I could do was yell at him, and bark orders.  You grew my company in areas that I didn’t think could see any more growth.  You kept Tim and Damian on speaking terms, while I kept them on fighting terms.  You even got Jason to willingly spend more than five minutes under this roof.  That’s something I have never been able to do.  You kept this family a family for almost a year without me, and I managed to destroy everything you did in a matter of weeks.”

Dick sniffed at the list of complements, “Well, I had the best example to follow.”

Bruce took Dick’s hand across the desk, “I hope you’re talking about your parents, because I sure am not the example to follow.”

Dick gave a sly grin, and gripped the rough, familiar hand tightly, “Of course I’m talking about my parents.” Bruce’s face dropped until Dick continued, “My Papa John, my Mama Mary, and my Daddy Bruce.  Besides, you know that no matter how good either of us are, we are useless without Alfred.”

The smile materialized back on Bruce’s face.  “That’s awfully elite company you have grouped me into.”

Dick shrugged, “I tried to give him a raise.  He just laughed at me.  He said, ‘Why do I need a raise, young master, when I already have access to all the household accounts?’”

Bruce snorted, “Does he know you do such a terrible impersonation of him?”

“There is very little that goes on in this house that he doesn’t know about.”

Bruce sobered, “So, what do I do now?  How do I fix this?  I know that I need to be more you and less me, but how can I build that trust with him?  He all but wished I were still dead.  What can I possibly do to get out from under that?”

Dick sighed, “It won’t be easy.  He has the same high expectations of people that you do.  He will expect even more of you than others, because you are his father.  Let me talk to him, feel things out with the situation.  You should try to come up with something that the two of you can do, outside of night work, a way to get to know each other better.  Don’t try to do it tomorrow, I don’t think it would turn out too well at this point, but still think about it.  If nothing else, you have one thing going in your favor.”

“What’s that?”

Dick smiled as he got up to leave, “You’re his father; he _wants_ to have a relationship with you.  That’s the whole reason he gave up the League, remember?”

Dick walked slowly upstairs, receiving an understanding look and a gentle nod from Alfred as he passed the open kitchen door.  He idly wondered how different the boy’s reaction to events would be from his father’s.  Dick took a deep breath outside of Damian’s closed door and knocked gently.

“LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Bruce’s reply to Dick’s knock had barely been audible.  Damian’s reply caused Dick to wince as the shriek echoed through the upstairs hall.  He could feel the pain being torn directly from the soul of his youngest brother in those three tortured words.

Dick ignored the three words and opened the door just enough to stick his head in.  “Damian?  I…”

Dick’s voice died in his throat as a matte black throwing knife embedded itself in the wood of the door with a hefty _thunk_ , mere centimeters from Dick’s eye.  _Okay, not quite the same reaction as Bruce._

Damian stood next to his bed, another knife in his hand.  “That was a warning, Grayson.  I won’t give you another.  Get out of here, so I can finish.”

Dick stepped into the room, cautious for more flying daggers.  He took two steps closer to the bed to see Damian turning back to the suitcase laid out on the blanket.  The left side of the case was full of clothes, while the right side was full of weapons, many of which Dick was unaware the boy even owned.  Damian reached behind the headboard and peeled off a set of throwing stars, the sharpened edges gleaming dangerously in the room’s light, that were taped to the back of the wood.

“Damian, what are you doing?”

The boy glanced up at where Dick stood, “Packing.  I suppose you already talked to Fa…to Mr. Wayne?”

Something broke in Dick when Damian couldn’t even refer to Bruce as his father.  He wanted nothing more than to rush forward and enfold the boy in a tight hug.  “I did.  Are you going somewhere?”

He stopped pulling weapons from hiding places long enough to turn fully to Dick.  Dick could plainly see the aftermath of the fight with Tim in the black eye and busted lip Damian was sporting.  Just as obvious were the angry red marks around his temples, where the mask adhesive had tried valiantly to do its job against Bruce’s tearing off of his mask.  Damian’s eyes were just as bloodshot as Bruce’s, and his cheeks bore the same tear tracks.

“I’m leaving,” Damian said plainly.

Dick could tell that this wasn’t a ploy for sympathy.  “Where will you go?”

“I’m having Mother send the boat to pick me up.  At least with the League I don’t have to worry about trying to figure out what others are thinking.  Mother will be happy to have me back.  At least someone there will have a use for me.  If I’m going to be treated like shit, I might as well do it in a place where people are going to listen to me.”

Dick took an involuntary step forward, “I have use for you, Damian.  I need you here, _want_ you here.  You don’t have to go back…there.”

Damian scoffed, “I don’t want your pity, Grayson.  I made a mistake in coming here.  It’s time I went back where I belong.”

Dick continued forward and sat on the edge of the bed, “You belong _here_ , Damian.”

Damian stopped packing again, looking down at the floor as a tear fell from his eyelashes, “I don’t,” he said quietly, “Fath…Mr. Wayne…doesn’t want to be around me, and Batman has fired Robin.  There is nothing left here for me.”

The older brother’s heart broke again at the hopelessness in the younger brother’s voice.  “I talked to Bruce, and unless he outright lied to me, Robin _hasn’t_ been fired.  Take it from a Robin who was fired: when it happens, there is no question as to what is happening.”

Damian sobbed as he said, “He took my mask.  He ripped it right off my face.  What could possibly say ‘you’re fired’ more than that?”

Dick reached out, but didn’t quite touch his brother, liking his hand to still be on the end of his arm when he got it back, “But, he also said you would be getting it back, right?”

“You didn’t hear how he dismissed me after taking it.  He may have said I would get it back, but I know better.  He will never let me near a costume again, and he certainly doesn’t want me as a partner in the field.  Well, he won’t have to worry about that anymore.  He can go back to his happy life…with his _chosen_ sons…without me.”  Damian sank down on the bed next to Dick and leaned into his brother’s shoulder.  Dick let him get the emotions out.  There was no judgement in it, just comfort.  Damian appreciated that.

Minutes later, the boy sniffled and asked softly, “Why did he have to pit us against each other?  Why did he have to set up some elaborate test to choose his partner?  We could have…I don’t know…shared him?  Switched off patrols?  I just wanted to…I wanted him to want me.”

“Damian, he does want you.  He spent half of our conversation begging me to tell him how to fix things with you.  Why do you think he doesn’t?”

“He never shows it,” Damian wiped gingerly at his black eye, “It’s always rules and orders with him.  Even after being gone for almost a year, the first thing he says to, or about, his biological son is some derisive, disbelieving comment about me being Robin.  Like…like he thought I was just playing around, or that I wasn’t good enough to serve in his moral crusade, because I was raised to break his number one commandment.  He holds my past against me.”

Dick finally wrapped his arms around his shaking brother and pulled him in tight.  “You want to know what I think is going on?  I think you two are so alike, that he looks at you and sees the dark reflection of what he could have been.  Bruce has a dark side.  Today, it’s manifested as Batman, but at your age, who knows what it could have turned into?”

“It’s not my fault,” the boy cried plaintively, “I didn’t have any control in how Mother and Grandfather raised me, the things I did, the…the people I killed.  Father doesn’t seem to want to recognize that.  Father just expected me to change everything in an instant; well…that’s hard.  I’m trying, Grayson, but it’s like…”  The boy trailed off his line of thought.

“Like what, Little D?”

The child was silent for a minute, gathering his thoughts to try and make sense of what was attempting to come flowing out of his mouth.  “Is it so hard to acknowledge the effort?  I don’t want him to throw me a party or anything for not killing someone, but is it so hard to even throw out a smile every now and then?  You did it, why can’t he?  I don’t know what he wants from me, what he expects.  It’s like I’m trying to find Washington, D.C. with a map of Chicago.  I’m never going to get there without the right information.  I’m never…I’m never going to please him, am I?  I’m never going to be good enough for him.”

It was Dick’s turn to think and collect his thoughts.  “Do you want me to talk to him?”

Damian leaned back, “I don’t want him to acknowledge me out of pity, but maybe something more than a sneer of disdain every now and then would be nice.  Even Mother would tell me I was doing a good job every so often.”

They fell into another silence, Dick holding Damian while Damian idly twirled a knife.  Just as Damian was beginning to nod off to sleep, Dick whispered, “So, can we give working it out a try?”

Damian mumbled, “What is there to work out?  My choices are either return to Mother, or spend the rest of my life in this room.  He made that abundantly clear.”

Dick sighed, “Brother, he _wants_ to try, but he doesn’t know how.  I think you’re going to have to be the bigger man, and make the first move.  You and Bruce are a lot alike.  You know what will make you feel better.  Well, that will make him feel better, too.  Show him that you aren’t just the mindless killing machine that you think he thinks you are.”

Damian looked up, barely catching Dick’s eye.  “How is apologizing, giving me my mask back, and admitting he’s a jackass going to make _him_ feel better?”

“You know what I mean, Damian.  Outside of all of that, you want to be understood.  You want to feel like part of a family.  He wants that, too.  You both just need to learn that it’s going to take time and hard work.  You both need to reach out a bit, and maybe you can connect somewhere in the middle.  It’s worth it.”

Damian thought for a minute before whispering, more to himself than anything, “I _do_ want that.”

Dick smiled at the overheard observation.  “So, what do you say?  Can we put the suitcase away and cancel the boat?”

“I guess…for now.  But…but what am I supposed to do?”

Dick stood and looked down at the still-seated youth, “You’re grounded, remember?  You’re not supposed to _do_ anything until your punishment is over.”

Damian grew a grumpy look, “So, you’re taking his side, too.”

“I’m not taking anyone’s side.  I’m your line of communication until the two of you can settle your differences.  However, you and Tim still got in a fight, and I understand you destroyed the training room.  Don’t you think being grounded for that is appropriate?”

Damian shot to his feet, “Drake hit me first!  What sort of punishment is he getting?”

“Tim’s an adult.  Legally, he could get jail time for child abuse if we were to report it, _which we aren’t,_ don’t get that look in your eye.” Damian had a crafty gleam begin to shine in his eye before Dick shut it down.  “Whatever his punishment will be, will be up to Bruce.  For now, we aren’t going to worry about that, because it’s pretty hard to punish someone who isn’t here.”

Damian looked up, confused, “What do you mean, isn’t here?”

Dick put a soft hand on his brother’s shoulder.  “Damian, last night was the straw that broke the camel’s back.  Tim packed up and left this morning, he moved out.”

“Oh, so he gets to leave, but I don’t?”

“There’s a big difference between leaving and moving into an apartment, and leaving to join the League of Assassins.  You don’t really want to go back there, or you would have left already.  You wouldn’t just be packing now.  I think you went back and forth over this all night, and only came to a partial decision just a short while before I knocked on your door.  Even then, if leaving had been your final decision, you wouldn’t have allowed me to even try to talk you out of it.  You haven’t even called your mother yet, have you?”

Damian looked at the floor and mumbled, “I haven’t talked to her in months, not since she fixed my spine.  Drake really left?”

“Yeah, he did.  Okay, here’s what’s going to happen now.  I’m going to go talk to Bruce and see if we can do something about your punishment.  Maybe I can at least get him to give me a time limit.  You are going to unpack that suitcase, and then you are going to think long and hard about something very important.”

“What’s that?”

“You are going to think about Tim, and your relationship with each other.  If you recall, he tried being nice to you from the first day you came to us.  You rejected him first, but he still tried.  He watched over you while you were in surgery.  He cried for you taking the beating you got when we got blown up.  Jason told me he was afraid to carry you to the hospital because he didn’t want to hurt you any worse than you already were hurt.  You two were getting along; you were at least on speaking terms.  If you both hadn’t been competing for Bruce’s attention, you could really be brothers.”

Dick approached the door, but turned back a step away, “By the way, the patrol last night _was_ a test, but not the one you think it was.  Bruce told me he was impressed with how well you two were getting along, and he wanted to see how well you worked together as a team.  It had nothing to do with who got to be Robin or who would be partnering with Batman.  The two of you let your insecurities run away with yourselves.  There was no competition in Bruce’s eyes; you were always going to stay Robin.  However, Tim is right.  You do need to learn how to follow directions better.  You can start by accepting your punishment, and thinking about what you really want.  I’ll see you at dinner.”  Dick left the room after seeing Damian begin unpacking the suitcase.

Dick spoke to Bruce, and got him to agree to two weeks of grounding, with an option to change at any time.  Other than meals, Damian was to be confined to his room.  Bruce had expected an argument from the boy, and was prepared to fire back with everything he had.  He was dumbfounded when Damian merely averted his eyes, nodded, and walked back to his room with nothing more than a defeated-sounding ‘yes, Father.’

The next week passed in strained moments and long silences.  By his fourth day of seclusion, Damian felt he had learned his lesson.  He had a long conversation with Dick that night, discussing his conclusions on his argument with Tim. 

“Grayson, I’ve thought about what you said.  I may have been…mistaken…in my treatment of Drake.  I guess he has proven himself as a…worthy addition to the Wayne family.”

Dick smiled, “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

“I mean, if he was adequate enough for Father to believe to be a decent replacement Robin, then I guess I should accept that.” Damian shrugged.

“Having Bruce’s seal of approval is a big feather in anyone’s cap…”

“…It’s obviously not one I have in mine.” Damian grumbled softly as he looked away.

Dick grabbed Damian’s chin and turned the boy’s face to meet his own, “I told you, it’s going to take time.  You still are feeling each other out.  And, he does approve of you.  You wouldn’t be in this house if he didn’t.”

“How am I supposed to know that?  He hasn’t said two words to me since laying out my punishment.  I only see him at dinner, and only for a few minutes.  He barely acknowledges my presence.  He didn’t even notice that I moved one chair farther down the dining room table.  He hasn’t even come to look in on me, even to check that I am still following his punishment.”

Dick looked curious about this new information.  “Have you tried going to him?”

“…And have him yell at me for being out of my room?  No, thanks.” Damian flopped back on his bed, “How do I make this right?  I need to do something to prove to both of them that I’m trying to change.  They obviously don’t want to talk to me, so maybe…what?”  Damian stopped at a strange look on Dick’s face.

Dick was smiling again, “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Tt.  Of course I do.  Are you going to help me with this, or not?  I need something that is going to let them know that I feel…remorse…for my actions.  That I acted…”

“…That you acted like a child.” Damian shot a glare at Dick as the ‘c’ word left his mouth.  “You’re ten, Damian, it’s okay to act like a child.”

Damian still wasn’t happy with the comparison.  “Okay, so what can I do to show that I’m not that child?”

Dick thought for a minute, a slow grin creeping onto his face.  “Well, Timmy’s birthday is coming up.  Why don’t you think of something nice to get him?  As for Bruce, I think I have an idea.”

As Damian’s punishment stretched into its second week, the tension began to ease around the Manor.  Dick encouraged Damian to try to get to know his father, so Damian took advantage of the only chance it seemed Bruce was giving him, and began asking about his father’s day during dinner.  It was still the only time of the day that the boy saw the man.  After a few fits and false starts, Bruce accepted that Damian was actually interested and not just asking to try to get on his good side to shorten his grounding.

They were on tentative speaking terms by Wednesday, and they had even shared a smile during dinner on Tuesday.  However, things took a turn for the worse when Bruce came home from the office on Wednesday afternoon.  He had a hellish day at the office.  A merger with a finance firm had fallen through, and Wayne Enterprises lost three substantial government contracts to LexCorp, all in the course of a single day.  As a result, stock prices had taken a tumble, and the company was in scramble mode to put the pieces back together.

Dragging himself through the entryway in a foul mood, Bruce felt his demeanor darkening as he saw Dick and Damian coming up from the cave.  Unable to control himself, Bruce stalked over to his sons.

“What the hell is going on here,” he all but shouted in their faces.

Damian, eyes wide in fear, couldn’t say anything.  Dick took a half step in front of his younger brother and held up his hands in a placating gesture.  “Bruce, it’s not what it looks like.  Let me explain…”

Bruce cut him off.  “You better do more than that.  Why is he out of his room?”

Dick bristled as Damian hung his head, “First of all, he’s right there.  You don’t have to talk about him like that, especially when you can just talk to him.  Second, Damian has been working on something…”

“He’s not supposed to be working on anything, that’s what grounded means!” Bruce interrupted again.

Dick sighed, “Yes, you grounded him, and left the option open for his punishment to be amended at any time.  I amended it.  If you will let me explain, you will see that it will do some good that I did.”  Bruce closed his eyes, taking a few forced breaths in the hope of calming down, and was clenching and unclenching his fists.  Dick took the time to turn to his brother and say, “Damian, why don’t you go back to your room now.”

Nodding, Damian stepped around his brother, but stopped and turned to his father.  In a quiet voice, the boy said, “Sorry, Father,” before scampering up the stairs.

The unexpected apology broke through Bruce’s anger, making him look up in shock.  He turned back to Dick and said, “Why are you undermining me on this, Dick?  I left the amendment there so that _I_ could change his punishment, not you.”

“You might not believe this, but I’m not undermining you.  If you took the time to talk to him, like I suggested last week, you would know what was going on.  I’m not letting him out of his room to defy you.  It is something we agreed on to add to his punishment.”

“…Add to it?” Bruce was confused.

“Yes.  You see, Damian told me that he felt really bad about how things happened, but that he didn’t feel welcome to come to you and talk about it.  He felt he should have to…pay back…his transgression in some more tangible way.  Let me show you what he’s been working on.”

“…Been working on?  So, you’re telling me that this has been going on for longer than just today?”  Bruce was starting to get angry again.

Dick read the look as he opened the secret door to the cave.  “For the past four days, for about an hour to an hour and a half a day, I have been supervising his special project.  It is probably something you would have had him do anyway, so we got started on it.  He hasn’t been out just to spite you, or to get a break, Damian has been working hard.”

Bruce followed his eldest through the cave, stopping outside the door to the training room.  His ire rose again at the thought of the last time he had seen the shambles the room had been left in.  “Let me guess, he swept up a little, and you’re going to call it progress.”

Dick stopped at the tone of voice, his hand on the doorknob.  “Well, today he did some sweeping, but that is just because he’s come to a bit of an impasse on what he can do next.”

Dick flung the door open and turned on the light.  Bruce stepped inside and felt his jaw drop at the difference that had been made.  The room was far from usable, but it could no longer be classified as a wreck anymore.  Training items had been rearranged into three distinct groups.  Bruce could easily see which pile was still usable, which one was repairable, and which one was the trash pile.  Several holes that Bruce remembered seeing in the drywall had been repaired.  The floor had been swept, with not a speck of dust remaining.  A toolbox was next to the middle pile of items, left from where Damian had spent his time the day before fixing what he could in the time he had to work with.

Bruce spoke in wonderment, “Dick, I remember what this room looked like when I dragged him up to his room last week after the fight.  He did all this in four hours?”

Dick tried to hide a smirk, “Call it five.  I let him go a bit long yesterday and the day before, because he was making progress.  He is at a bit of an impasse right now, though.  The next logical step is to get the trash out of the room, but he will need help with that.  A lot of that stuff is really heavy.  He really struggled getting the bigger stuff into that pile on day one.  We need to figure out a way to dispose of it all without being suspicious.  Any ideas?”

Bruce answered distractedly, “We’ll come up with something later.  He really did all this on his own?  You didn’t help him with any of it?”

“Well…I did have to help with some of the repair work yesterday.”  Bruce’s mouth turned south as he grimaced at the news.  Dick quickly followed up with, “I had to.  He didn’t know how to fix some of the things.  He wanted to make sure that everything he tried to fix was going to be in perfect working order.  He knew you would accept nothing less.”

Bruce took a slow lap around the room, taking in what had been done and what was still left to be done.  He was impressed in the amount of work his youngest had been able to get done in such a short amount of time.  Returning to stand before Dick again, Bruce said softly, “I guess this isn’t such a bad thing to add to his grounding.  If I had thought of it, this is exactly the kind of thing I would have had him do.  You say he wanted to do this?”

Dick nodded, “Said he thought it would be a small token for you to know that he gets it.  He understands what you are trying to teach him.  Bruce, he wants to be a part of this family.  Like I told you, he wants your approval.  I let him out of his room to do this because he wanted it to be a surprise for you, an apology of sorts.  He would have waited until Sunday, when you let him out of his room again, but I told him it would be okay.  Don’t punish him for that, he didn’t want to make you any madder than he already did.  That was all my doing.”

Bruce was silent for a minute before explaining to Dick just how bad his day at the office had been.  Bruce really did feel bad at the way he had exploded at the boys, and he promised he would talk to Damian and try to make things better. 

Unfortunately, it didn’t happen Wednesday night.  As they were leaving the cave, Bruce received a call from the office and went straight to his study, where he worked until the wee hours of the morning.  He only grabbed a short nap before leaving for the office to continue trying to salvage the company.

Meanwhile, Damian sat in his room and waited for his world to crash down around him.  He expected Bruce to come in and yell at him some more, and moreover, he felt he deserved it.  The longer Bruce stayed away, the more Damian felt either his father was building up to something epic, or the opposite was happening and Bruce was distancing himself from the boy in order to make it easier to get Damian out of his life.  He was preparing to pack his suitcase again when Dick came to see him.

Damian spoke first, quietly, staring at his hands, folded in his lap, “He hates me, doesn’t he?”

“He wasn’t too happy, but I wouldn’t say that he hates you.  I’m sorry he caught us, Little D.  I’m also sorry that I had to blow your surprise for him.  On the bright side, he was much happier when I showed him the progress you have been able to make in the Training Room.  He said he would be doing some hard thinking about your relationship and would be talking to you soon.”

“To do what?  Kick me out?  Why won’t he just talk to me?  He talks to everyone else, but he doesn’t talk to me.  Am I still that much of a disappointment to him?” Damian’s voice grew smaller as he spoke.

Dick opened his mouth to respond before his eyes grew wide.  He slowly closed his mouth as a memory fought its way to the front of his brain.  Damian gave him a strange look as a smile drew its way across Dick’s face.  “Little D, I think I just thought of a way to frame this to him that will get him thinking.  This isn’t the first time he has had trouble communicating with one of his sons.”

“…You and he argued like this, too?” Damian was curious about where this was leading.

“No,” Dick shook his head, “Not like this, at least.  You may be surprised to know that he treated Timmy almost the same way he is treating you right now.  It really wasn’t that long ago, I’m surprised he doesn’t see it.  I’m surprised it took me so long to see it.  Come on, let’s go talk to him, it’s dinner time, anyway.”

Bruce wasn’t at dinner when the boys arrived.  Alfred informed them that Bruce had been home just long enough to shower and change the suit he had been wearing since Wednesday morning.  He had grabbed a sandwich on his way back to the office, where he was planning on spending the next several hours in conferences with the Board of Directors, planning Wayne Enterprises next moves.

Bruce returned to the Manor very early Friday morning, passing the entryway just as Dick returned from patrol.  The man was visibly exhausted, but a pleased smile wreathed his features.  Dick wanted to know what was up, but he wanted a post-patrol snack more.  Bruce understood and told Dick to meet him in his study when he was ready.

Several minutes later, Dick entered without knocking to find Bruce on his phone.  Dick was able to catch the end of what he determined to be a voicemail message.

“…You know you can always talk to me, son.  I miss you, and I wish you would call to check in, Tim.  I’ll…I’ll talk to you later…please.”  Bruce hung up the phone with a sigh before turning to Dick.  “You know, Dick, with just a couple more changes, this could be the homecoming I was dreaming of.”

Dick smiled softly, “Yeah, I guess it hasn’t worked out so well, but there’s time now.  Tim will come around.  He can’t stay gone forever.  He doesn’t even want to, if you want to know a secret.”

Bruce was just a bit startled, “Have you talked to him?”

“A couple days ago.  He didn’t want me to tell you, but I will anyway.  He doesn’t want to talk to you just yet.  He knows news like that would hurt you, which is why he didn’t want me to tell you, but it is actually a good thing.  Timmy told me that if he were to talk to you right now, he would feel even worse than he did when he was yelling at you, and he would come running home in a minute.  He doesn’t feel that he should do that just yet, which is why he isn’t answering your calls.”

Bruce looked downtrodden, “So, I’m just wasting my time by calling?”

Dick shook his head, “No, not at all.  He wants you to keep calling.  He needs to hear your voice just as much as you want to hear his.  I bet I could convince him to call if you would agree not to answer.  He’d leave you a voicemail, and you could hear his voice again.”

“…But I want to talk _to_ him, Dick.  We could work this all out.”

“How would that help, when you’re not the one he’s mad at?  He hates that calming himself down has had the side effect of cutting himself off from you, but it’s what he thinks he needs right now.  It’s not, and he’ll figure that out pretty soon, but until then, it’s time to let your little bird fly free, and to focus a bit on your littler bird.”

Bruce took a deep breath and let out a long sigh.  “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I wish you didn’t live here still.  Then Tim could have crashed on your couch, like he thought of doing years ago, instead of running all the way across the country.  That way he would still be close, but still have his space.”

Dick thought of what he originally wanted to talk to Bruce about.  “Funny you should say that, because if I still had my own couch, Tim would probably not be the brother sleeping on it.  When are you going to talk to Damian?”

Bruce closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, “…I just don’t know what to say, Dick.”

“He’s your son, it can’t be that hard.”

“We’re just so…different.  I can’t really see any common ground between us.”

Dick’s jaw dropped, “You have got to be kidding me.  You two are so alike, it’s scary.  If you don’t believe me, ask Alfred.  He raised you, and he watched while I floundered trying to bring up Damian.  If there is anything he told me about what he saw, it was how similar the two of you are.  He’s probably right outside the door, listening to us.  I’m sure he could come in for a minute and back that up.”

Bruce shot a smile at the door, waiting for the butler to make an appearance.  When the door didn’t open, Bruce continued.  “Do you really think so?”

Dick sighed again, “Bruce, I’m going to tell you something that he doesn’t want you to know, mostly because he thinks you don’t care.  Do you know what I found him doing, after I spoke to you about the fight that first night?”

“He better not have been doing anything.  He’s already been given too much leeway in his punishment.”

Dick pierced Bruce with a full-fledged Batglare, “ _Stop it_.  Stop treating him like that.  Why can’t you see that he is trying to change?  Why don’t you want to see anything but the worst in him?  Do you even want him here?”

Bruce was caught in one of the rare moments in his life where he felt totally unprepared for what might come next.  The only person to ever make him feel as small as he did under the baleful glare was Alfred, and that had been when Bruce was still a child.  “I…I.”  Bruce sighed, “When I look at him, I see what I could have been.  You have no idea how tempted I was to stay with Ra’s when I was first training with him.  I could have been Damian very easily, and it scares the hell out of me to see what I could have been.  I want him to know life outside of Ra’s influence, but I don’t know if I am the person to try to teach him.  I guess…I haven’t been around him a lot.  I should stop looking and seeing myself, and start trying to see him, the real him, the him that you see.”

Dick’s gaze didn’t waver, “You look at him and see yourself.  I’m surprised you don’t look at him and see Tim.  I want you to think back to two years ago.  What happened right before Tim graduated high school?”

Bruce’s eyes widened at the memory he had tried so hard to forget.  “I learned to have room in my life for another son, something that should have happened years earlier.  Why are you bringing that up?”

“You know why I’m bringing that up; I see it in your face.  You don’t want to believe that you could treat two sons, two sons in a row, if I might add, the same way.  Well, you are.  You know what Damian was doing when I went to talk to him after the fight?  He was packing.  He was going to go back to Talia, because he believed that you had no use for him, and that you would be happier without him.  He didn’t want you to know that, because he thought you might actually let him leave, or want him to leave.  His words were, ‘If you aren’t going to talk to him, and you took Robin from him, what reason was there to stay here, when he could go elsewhere and be treated like a human being.’”

Bruce’s bottom lip was quivering.  _He…he was going to leave?  He had a plan to go, because he thought I didn’t want him?_ “Dick…help me.  I’m a terrible father.  Why am I so bad at this?  You turned out okay, why can’t I do that again?”

Dick sighed, but with a small smile, “You’re not a terrible father, you just need to think about how others feel a little more.  And, you can reproduce your success again.  You have a willing participant waiting for you upstairs.  You both just need to learn to open up a bit with each other.  It takes time, and it will be frustrating; believe me, I know how frustrating he can be, maybe better than you do.  I also know that there is so much under the surface.  It’s worth the effort and aggravation.”

Bruce nodded slowly, “Okay, so how do I fix this?”

Dick’s smile grew, “That’s easy, the same way you fixed things with Timmy.”

Bruce’s jaw dropped again, “I’m not buying him a car; he’s ten.”

Dick rolled his eyes as he stood up to go to bed, “ _Talk_ to him.  Spend time with him.  Like I told you, he wants a relationship with you, you just have to put out the effort, and you need to stick with it when he pulls back.  He will, but it is just a test, to see if you really want to get to know him.  He doesn’t want to get hurt any more than you do.  If you show him that you aren’t going to hurt him, he will open up, a little more every day.”

Bruce was nodding again and said, “Alfred” in a normal speaking voice.”

Behind Dick, the door opened and the butler stuck his head in the room.  “You called, sir?”

As Dick was smirking at the fact that Alfred really was waiting on the other side of the door, Bruce said, “Can you do me a favor?  Please get Damian for me?”

Alfred looked skeptical, “You wish me to wake the young master, sir?  Wouldn’t this conversation be better in the morning?”

Dick clapped a hand on the butler’s shoulder, “Start from outside the door, Alfred.  He only keeps three throwing knives under his pillow.  Once those are gone, it’s fairly safe to enter the room.  I’ll even go up with you.”

The butler sighed, “Very well, sir.  I may be putting in for a leave after tonight, however.”

Several minutes later, a pajama-clad boy yawned his way into the study, wiping sleep out of his eyes on a sleeve.  He stopped halfway between the door and the desk and said in a bleary voice, “Pennyworth said you wanted to see me, Father?”

“Yes, Damian.  Please, sit down.”  Once the boy had nervously taken a chair, Bruce continued, “I understand that Dick has told you of the…difficulties…I’ve been having at work these past few days?”

Damian couldn’t meet his father’s eyes as he softly said, “Yes, Father.”

Bruce was saddened to realize just how depressed Damian sounded.  “Well…I…I wanted to tell you about two phone calls I received at the office today.”  Damian looked confused, but didn’t say anything, so Bruce continued.  “The first call was from Lucius.  It turns out that there was a mistake, and we ended up getting one of the government contracts we were bidding for.  The mistake was on the part of the government.  They were always going to award Wayne Enterprises the contract, it’s just that their office had the wrong paperwork in the wrong pile.  It’s not the biggest contract, but the news of the contract has stabilized our stock.  We closed business with a slight uptick, even though we’re still down, we’re having a good quarter overall.”

Damian looked up, but still didn’t meet Bruce’s eyes.  “Oh, that…that’s good news, Father.  Congratulations.  I read some papers that Grayson brought home several weeks ago, and it looked like this was going to be a good quarter for…you.”

_I don’t think this is working!  God, I wish Dick would come back._   “Thank you, Damian.  Have you been taking an interest in the…family business?”

_I don’t think this is working!  Where is this leading?  God, I wish Grayson were here, he’d make this better._   “I…I had a lot of downtime…while healing from injuries…while you were gone.  Grayson needed all the help he could get in keeping the…Wayne Enterprises…running smoothly.  I…I looked over some of the financial reports for him.”

_Huh, Dick didn’t say anything about that._   “Okay, I guess.  Well, the other call was from the head of HR.  You know what HR is, right?”

“Yes, Father, Human Resources.”

“Yes, well, she informed me that she received a Leave of Absence request from the Executive Vice President of the Wayne Foundation.  It was written to be an open-ended request.  I…I approved it, reluctantly.”

Damian withered under the pointed stare.  _Oh…Drake.  He…he really was serious about staying away._   Damian swallowed hard before opening his mouth again.  With a weaker voice, he said, “Father, I…”

Bruce cut him off.  “Damian, you’re done.”

Damian’s eye’s widened as his mouth worked up and down with no sounds coming out.  _Done?  What does he mean, done?  Not like…done, right?_   “Fa-Fa-Father?”  He blinked rapidly as tears started to fill his eyes.  His mouth trembled and he found himself breathing harder as he tried not to break down now.  _That’s it, it’s all over.  I should have left last week, like I was planning._   The boy didn’t see the strange, hurt look that Bruce was giving him at his reaction.

Damian stood, fists balled at his sides as tears leaked down his cheeks.  He sniffled and wiped at his nose as he whispered shakily, “Ye-yes, Father.  I’ll…I’ll just go and pack, then.  I-I’m sorry I f-f-failed you, F-F-Father.”

Damian made it three steps towards the door before Bruce caught his arm gently.  The child wasn’t even aware that the man had moved, but stopped anyway.  Bruce knelt and turned the boy to face him.  Unconsciously holding both of the boy’s hands, Bruce said, “Hey, no.  Damian, that came out wrong.”  Bruce guided the weeping boy to the couch and sat down.  “Look at me, son.”  Damian grudgingly lifted his face.  “When I said ‘you’re done’, I meant that you’re done with your punishment.”

A look of confusion crossed the boy’s face, “But, you said I was grounded until Sunday.”

“…And now, I’m saying that you aren’t.”

Deep down, a part of Damian’s brain wondered why he was fighting this, while another part was scared that it meant that he was being put out of the house, and therefore grounding was unnecessary.  Still confused, he stammered, “But…Drake.”

“…Has nothing to do with your punishment.  Son, I’m not mad at you for Tim needing some time away.  I’m not even really mad that the two of you fought.  Dick explained what both of you were thinking when I sent you out on that patrol, and that is my fault for not making it clear what I was looking for.  I should be flattered that the two of you were fighting over me.  I’ll have to think about that one for a while.  I’m letting you off early because of what I have seen you do since then.  You followed instructions, you didn’t complain, and you made attempts to rectify your wrongs.  I’m impressed, Damian.”

Damian had stopped crying, but was still confused.  “Father, it is very late on Thursday night, right?”

Bruce checked his watch, “No, it’s actually quite early on Friday morning, why?”

“I’m not…dreaming this…right?  This is actually you…and me…sitting in your study?”

Bruce gave a small smile that Damian found he really liked, “Talking about ending your punishment, and possibly, about getting to know you better.”

“So, I’m not going to get yelled at if I come out to breakfast in the morning and…want to talk some more?”

“No, son.  Tomorrow, I’m working half a day.  When I get home, I would like to discuss the training room with you.”

_Ah, I knew I was still in trouble._ Damian looked down at his hands, still held in his Father’s grasp.  “Yes, sir.”

“I want to help you in fixing as many of the salvageable items as possible.  You’ve already made a good start, I just want to make sure you have the help you need.”

A small smile began to break through Damian’s demeanor.  “Thank you, Father.  That would be…appreciated.”

Bruce patted Damian’s knee, wondering too late if it was the prosthetic joint or the real one, and if the action would hurt the boy.  When no reaction was made, Bruce continued, “Come on, it’s late.  Let’s get to bed, and we can talk some more at breakfast, okay?  I have an idea for something we can do on Sunday, if you feel up to it.”

As they walked up the stairs, Damian asked softly, “What did you have in mind, Father?”

Bruce glanced down as he walked next to his son.  “Well, it’s been over a year, and the garage is looking a bit…dated.  I think we might need something new…to spruce it up a bit.  Maybe something…different.”

Damian stopped outside of his bedroom and glanced up at his father.  “I…I think that could be…interesting.”

Bruce put both hands on the boy’s shoulders, “Yes, it could be.”

Damian looked slightly to the left and right, then awkwardly stepped forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Bruce’s waist for a second, before stepping back again.  The move shocked Bruce into speechlessness as Damian said, “Good night, Father,” and walked back into his room, closing the door behind him.

Bruce stood for a full minute, looking at the door that hid his youngest.  The strength and meaning behind that short embrace stayed with him long after the warmth faded.  Finally, he lightly stroked the door and whispered, “Good night, son.”

_Meanwhile, on the other side of the country…_

Tim collapsed into his bed at Titan’s Tower, utterly exhausted after a lengthy patrol.  His two weeks spent with the Titans had been hectic, and they were happy for the extra help.  As much as he enjoyed getting back with his old friends, he couldn’t help but miss the way Bruce ran things.  Everything had to be ordered, everything had to be done in a certain way, to a certain standard, to be considered done, and done right.  Tim had tried to introduce a sense of order when he was leading the Titans, but he had obviously been gone too long, and things had become lax.

Tim hissed in pain as he sat up.  New bruises promised a bad night’s sleep and soreness in the morning.  Changing into pajamas, the teen examined the new bruises on his chest and arms in the mirror.  His eyes worked their way back up to his face, where several fading bruises were still barely noticeable, leftovers from his fight with Damian.  He smiled as his fingers ghosted over the marks.  It had been an epic fight, and Tim felt he earned these bruises.  He had heard from Dick about Damian doing amazing things during patrols, but to be on the receiving end of it gave Tim, with two weeks of hindsight and retrospect under his belt, a grudging respect for his younger brother.  Tim had thought, at the time, that his initial punch would end everything.  He was unprepared for Damian to throw himself at the taller teen with a wildcat fury.  As the fight grew, Tim felt more desperate to end it as quickly as possible.  He tried to work a sleeper hold into the mix, something he had used with great success against criminals on patrols often in the past.  Unfortunately, his hold wasn’t so well executed.  As he tried to sink his arm deeper around the boy’s throat, pain erupted along his arm.  He had to look twice to really believe his eyes.  His arm wasn’t around the child’s throat, but pulling tighter into his mouth.  Damian had actually growled as he tried to bite a chunk out of Tim’s arm.  As he looked over the half-moon shaped bite marks left on his forearm, he laughed at the memory of Bruce actually having to utter the phrase, ‘Let go, Damian!  Stop biting your brother!’

The smile fell from his face as he remembered the hurt in Bruce’s eyes when he left.  It fell further when he recalled the last time he had talked to Dick.  His older brother told him that Bruce and Damian were no longer on speaking terms.  It had been several days since he had spoken to Dick, and the last thing Dick said was that he was working on mediating their relationship, but Tim still felt for the boy.  Tim remembered what a Bruce cold shoulder felt like and, as much as the child had pissed him off, he wouldn’t wish Bruce’s reaction on anyone.

Realizing that he was just staring off into space, glaring at himself in the mirror, Tim sat down on the bed again and pulled out his laptop.  As he sat through the excessively lengthy startup sequence, he idly wondered if Wayne Tech could be talked into designing something better.  _Oh, yeah, leave of absence.  Bruce probably wouldn’t like me co-opting company resources while not actually working for the company._

Tim’s first stop on the internet was the same as it always was, the website for the Gotham Gazette.  Nothing new, exciting, or dangerous caught his attention, so he switched over to the Daily Planet and found Clark’s most recent column.  Finishing the work, he idly considered calling the Kryptonian and seeing if he had any news about Bruce’s current state.  Tim still couldn’t bring himself to call his adoptive father, knowing that just hearing his voice in an interactive form would send him running back on the next available flight.  He had stopped listening to the voicemails after Bruce called, pleading for him to come home after approving the leave of absence.  Tim just couldn’t stand the pain in the man’s voice.  Tim wondered if anyone outside of the Manor even knew that there were problems inside the walls of the abode.  News had to have gotten to Superman by now that Red Robin was back with the Titans.  If that wasn’t worth a call to Batman for an update, Tim didn’t know what was.

Trying to put it out of his mind for a while, Tim typed in the address for the site that had almost become his new home page, Gotham Apartments .com.  The teen had been drawn to the site on his second day away from the Manor, and even just seeing some of the street names in the listings had made him homesick.  He spent the rest of his first week at the Tower searching terrible listings, purposely drawing out his search in the hopes he would be able to work through the block that was keeping him in San Francisco.  Eventually, he had moved into more favorable listings.  Now, for the last two days, he had been doing some heavy research.  He had sent several inquiries about available apartments, and was waiting to hear back from the landlords for more information.

Idly, he thought about calling Dick, just to see if anything had changed at home… _at the Manor_.  _I can’t think of it as home anymore, even though Bruce told me I will always be welcome and have a room there.  If I think of it as home, I won’t allow myself to go anywhere else.  I need to be out on my own, even if it is just for a while.  Bruce understands, he said he wasn’t mad at me, but I know I hurt him, and I’m still hurting him.  Maybe if I find something, then I can call him._

Tim got up and walked around his room, trying to get his mind off that train of thought.  Heading to the kitchen for a glass of water, he wondered just how bad it would be to just go back home and try to pretend that nothing had happened.  _Demon Brat won’t let me forget what happened.  Damn that kid.  We could have worked something out.  I know he needs his father, but so do I.  I don’t understand what Dick sees in him.  Maybe if he had his ass handed to him a few more times, he would settle down a bit, to where someone might mistake him for a normal person._

Tim yawned as he returned to his room.  He picked his laptop up again and checked his email, the last thing to do before he went to bed.  He read several blog updates and weekly sales circulars, not really finding anything of interest.  The last two new messages caught his attention a bit more.

The first one was an update from Dick, sent this morning.  Apparently, Bruce and Damian were talking again.  There was still a lot to work out, but they were working it out.  Surprisingly enough, Tim found this to be good news.  As much as he held a grudge against the boy, he was happy that Damian could get to know his father.  Once upon a time, Tim had held out hope that Damian could be salvaged as a human being.  He had seen and heard about horrible things being done to the boy, and felt sympathy and a form of comradeship towards the child.  Now, hearing this news, a small spark of that not-too-old feeling began to glow in his stomach.

The second email caused his breath to catch in his throat.  It was from Damian.  Tim sat and stared at the listing in his inbox for several minutes, disbelieving the source of the message.  He scanned it for viruses and malware with every protection program he had, but the message came up clean.  With a hint of trepidation, Tim opened the message and began to read.

_Drake-_

_I know that I am the last person you wish to hear from, but please hear me out.  There are no viruses or spam attached to this message, and your computer won’t blow up just by you opening it.  I am writing this because I do not believe that I am able to say it to your face.  I have spent a lot of time talking to Grayson over the past weeks, mostly since he is the only person who will speak with me.  He has made me realize something important.  I was wrong.  I acted in a childish and immature manner, and you were the foil for my bad behavior.  You made attempts to treat me in a manner in which I wasn’t prepared to accept, and I lashed out at you for it.  You didn’t deserve that, and for what it’s worth, I’m sorry._

_I believed that Father was trying to choose between us when he sent us on that patrol.  I have since been informed that Father was trying to see how well we could work together.  I guess we showed him.  There is no good way to explain my actions when it comes to how I felt about that.  I still don’t understand them myself.  Grayson is trying to help me in that regard._

_Grayson is a good man, and his opinion means a lot to me.  He seems to have the opinion that you are a good person, and that it would be in my best interest to get over whatever grudge I’m holding against you, in order to see the good person underneath.  Those are his words, by the way._

_Father and Grayson seem to place a premium on your company, and your continued presence is wished by them fervently.  It is not fair on any of you that I divide you from them.  That said, I propose a compromise.  You may do as you wish, but if you want to return home, I will stay out of your way.  I’ll be honest, I still don’t like you, but I believe that may change, if Grayson is to be believed.  According to him, I haven’t given you a chance.  I am willing to try that._

_Just to let you know, my bruises and cuts have just about healed after our fight.  I hope yours have as well.  You put up more of a fight than I was expecting, which was my fault, because I should have expected nothing less from a Robin.  If nothing else comes out of this, know that you have earned my respect.  I’m not saying that we will be friends after this, but…I don’t want to kill you anymore.  I hope that counts for something._

_I have one favor to ask of you.  Call Father.  It is rather distressing to see him moping around the house like he has been for the past few days.  We are speaking again, and trying to work together, so the only reason I can think of for his current behavior is that he hasn’t heard from you._

_Drake, you have done far more for me than I care to admit.  Grayson reminded me of that fact just the other day.  Looking back, I can admit that our difficulties are mostly my fault.  That is not an apology, just a statement of fact.  It would seem that I owe you a debt, one that I may never be able to repay.  Just know that I am willing to work with you, or stay away from you, whichever is your preferred course._

_If you have been considerate enough to make it this far, then just let me say thank you for that small bit of trust, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t be more agreeable when you were here.  You didn’t actually deserve that, and you put up with far more than you should have.  If you refused to read this letter, therefore not making it to this point, then even though you won’t see it, screw you.  I’m trying, I just don’t know what else to do at this point._

_\--Damian Wayne_

Tim wiped an eye as he finished the letter.  He was blown away at the sincerity he felt coming from the Demon Brat.  Conscious of the fact that his jaw was hanging open the entire time he read the email, Tim made an effort to clamp his mouth shut as he started from the top again.  After his fourth reading, Tim picked up his phone and dialed the second preset number.

On the third ring, an eminently groggy greeting was grunted into the phone.  “Wha…Timmy?  Do you ha any idea wha time it is?  Are you okay?”

“Sorry to call so late, Dick.  I…I don’t believe what I just read.  I just wanted to know how you did it.”

Dick was starting to wake as the conversation went on.  “How I did what?  Is this really this important?  It’s four in the morning, Tim.  Can’t this wait until later?  Like, after the sun comes up?”

“Well, it’s only one here, and tomorrow is Sunday, so it’s not like you have to get up in the morning.  Come on, did you tell him to do it?”

Dick sighed exasperatedly, “Tim, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tim considered that his brother was so tired that he actually didn’t know what Tim was referring to.  “I just called to ask how you got Damian to write that letter.”

Dick was silent long enough for Tim to wonder if he had fallen asleep, or dropped the call.  Finally, Dick said, “What letter?”

“Yeah, sure, like you don’t know.  Where else would he get the idea?”

Tim could imagine Dick shaking his head as he said, “Tim, start from the top, okay?  Once more, with clarity.”

_Wait, does he really not know?_   “Okay, I was checking my email when I got back from patrol.  I got a message from Damian.  The long and short of it is he pretty much apologized for our argument and fight.  The letter sounded pretty sincere, too.  I was just wondering if you had to twist his arm behind his back to get him to write it, or if you wrote it yourself and just sent it from his email account.”

Dick was silent again before saying, “I didn’t force, cajole, threaten, or even hint that he should write a letter.  All I did was encourage him to think about you, and if he was really happy with how things went down.  If you’re telling me that he sent you some sort of apology email, then he did that on his own.”

It was Tim’s turn to be shocked.  _He really meant what he wrote?  He really wrote it himself?  That is going to take some time to wrap my head around._ “Wow…He…You…Has he really changed, do you think?”

Tim could hear the smile in Dick’s voice, “I’ve been telling everyone that for months.  I wish people would start listening to me.”

“Huh.  I’m going to have to think about that one for a while, then.  I guess there is just one last person to talk to, now.  Do me a favor, Dick.  Could you have Bruce call me in the morning?  I think I’m finally ready to talk to him.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.  Tim became concerned as the silence stretched out.  He checked the screen and found the call timer still counting, so he knew the call was still connected.  “Dick?  You fall asleep?  You still there?”

A deeper, sleep filled voice responded.  “No, Tim, it’s me.  I heard Dick talking, so I came to see what’s wrong.  He handed me the phone.  I hope that’s alright?”

Relief flooded him as the voice he longed to hear flooded from the speaker directly into his heart.  “Hi, Dad.  I miss you.”

 

**A/N: Well, I could have gone on, but I like this ending better, and yes, that was Bruce that he is talking to at the end.  Just to give a short synopsis of what happens next, on the Bruce/Damian front, this story is the direct precursor to Car Shopping.  On the Tim front, sometime between the end of this story and Blood Son, Tim moves back to Gotham and into his own apartment.  He goes back and forth between the apartment and the Manor, and my other stories detail his growing relationship with Damian.  This story has already been added to my timeline, if anyone is interested in where this fits in.**

**Some parts of this story felt a bit rushed to me, but I didn’t see how I could change it, so I left it as is.  I am interested in knowing if anyone else had the same feeling in reading this.**

**Yes, I am aware that Damian was the one who did the original dropping into everyone’s lives, but the analogy as Dick laid it out to Bruce felt appropriate for the situation.**

**If anyone is confused as to why Dick says that Bruce and Tim had a rocky relationship, please see my story Rebound.**

**Thanks for playing along, there is more to come.**


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